


butterfly wings

by pheonix85



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Irondad, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, an attempt was made, but - Freeform, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-08-26 12:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16681351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pheonix85/pseuds/pheonix85
Summary: He can’t expel it from his mind, no matter how hard he tries; it plays over and over when he least needs it to. It’s so clear how her knees give out and she crumples against the cement steps when she realizes Peter isn’t with him. He can still feel the weight of her when he gathers her in his arms and tells herI'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.Remembers how he whispers a promise to her as she cries.I'm gonna bring him back, I promise.I'm gonna bring them all back.orPost IW. Tony returns to Earth without his son. He and Steve obtain and use the Time stone to go back and fix things, unwittingly changing everyone's lives forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've been wanting to write an IW follow up to sustain me until next year, as well as "Tony is Peter's biodad" fic (there are so many good ones already, it was hard to try something newish) but still, *tosses hat into the ring*

 

It doesn't seem to matter if Tony is asleep or awake. The memories from Titan don't care if his consciousness wants to think about them or not. They come, unbidden and all at once, mostly when he's least expecting them. No amount of alcohol or sedatives keep them away, and there's no amount of work, locked up in his lab, that seems to do the trick either.

He sees it, all the time. Remembers Thanos's face, his words, his cruel intentions rationalized as benevolence.

Sometimes, if he's able to sleep, Peter's there and then he's not, dust in the wind, slipping through his fingers.

He heads right to his penthouse in New York City when he and Nebula return to Earth. Thank something for small mercies, because Rhodey is still with him but Pepper and Happy are gone. 

May Parker is there too, sitting outside the Compound when he returns with what is left of the Avengers.

He can’t expel it from his mind, no matter how hard he tries; it plays over and over when he least needs it to.  It’s so clear how her knees give out and she crumples against the cement steps when she realizes Peter isn’t with him. He can still feel the weight of her when he gathers her in his arms and tells her _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry._

Remembers how he whispers a promise to her as she cries. _I'm gonna bring him back, I promise._

_ I'm gonna bring them all back. _

 

 

* * *

 

_ It's 2006. Stark Industries employs a team of lawyers. There is always some lawsuit that springs up---anything ranging from wrongful termination to fraudulent practices to wrongful death suits (there are a lot of those, considering their primary line of business). _

_ Not many have teeth; even when they do, it's rare that Tony hears about it directly. _

_ So when he is called to meet with the head of the legal department and there is not one but three of his lawyers present, he is uncharacteristically unnerved. _

_ A lot is lost to him in the political jargon, but they slide a file in front of him.  _

_ He remembers Mary. He’d whisked her away to his island after the conference in December of 2000. He could tell she was serious when she claimed to “never do things like this,” by the nervous way she'd laugh whenever he'd very casually propose another extravagant outing but went along with it anyway. He remembered, cloudily, how she'd explained she and her _fiancé_ were on the outs and she had needed this, and then he remembered dropping her off at JFK on his private jet and never seeing her again. _

_ Until now. Her photo stares up at him, an unsettling reminder that sometimes his recklessness had consequences. _

_ “Mr. Stark,” One of the lawyers pressed gently, trying to get his attention. “Is there a possibility these allegations are true?” _

_**Allegations**. He looks at the other photo, one of Mary with a man he assumes was the estranged fiancé, and a little boy of about 3. Something about a plane crash, and a letter, and a few emails he'd exchanged with her proving they'd at least known each other. _

_ A petition for assistance. Not even near as much as the kid’s guardians could demand. Just enough to help. _

_ He sighs, sliding his sunglasses onto the glass table in front of him and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. _

_ “Yeah. Yeah, it's credible. We should probably get a test scheduled, to be sure.” _

 

* * *

 

They don't say dusted. They say faded away. They say gone. They say _lost_.

But never dusted.

_earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust_

Because they swear this isn't the end.

And there will be no committals to the Earth.

 

* * *

 

_ Peter grows up splitting his time between his Aunt and Uncle's, and Tony's. It takes some time for him to adjust, but eventually, he has his own room in the penthouse Tony owns in Manhattan.  _

_ Sometimes, Tony is gone longer than usual. He's busy, he has a really important job, and Peter isn't really close enough to him to mind. He's just warming up to the idea of him being “Dad” when Tony disappears for longer than usual. _

_ Aunt May tells him that everything is gonna be okay, but he can tell she's scared and not sure, and that kind of scares him a little too. It's weird, cause Aunt May and Uncle Ben don't even seem to really like Tony, he can tell by how they talk to him. When Pepper visits, she looks like she's been crying. _

_ Still. Peter is sure everything will be fine. It's not until a month or so later, when he gets the winning goal during a soccer game, that he immediately thinks of his dad. _

_ Dad. **Dad**. _

_ And suddenly, he misses him a lot. Tony was there for his first game, despite it being really early, and had bought him all his gear. He’d clapped him on the shoulder and smiled at him, and told Peter he’d done a great job.  _

_ Peter wants to tell him about the game. _

_ Aunt May lets him call from the car and when Pepper's face appears on the special Stark phone Tony gave them before he left, he lights up. _

_ “Ms. Potts, is my dad home yet?” _

_Her face twitches and her mouth turns down. He's never called Tony that before, even to his face, even when they were alone, so maybe he shouldn't have now. “No, Peter, I'm afraid he's not.”_

_Her voice is trembling, and something about that unsettles him a great deal. His stomach begins to hurt. “Ms. Potts, he's never been gone this long. Where's my dad?”_

_ “Peter…” May starts, softly and cautious.  _

_ “He’s…” Pepper swallows, then clear her throat. “Rhodey is looking really hard for him. He's gonna find him soon.” _

_ “Okay,” Peter is still unsettled. “You'll tell him to call me right away, right?” _

_ She laughs, but it doesn't make him feel any better. “Absolutely.” _

_ “Good. Because I scored the winning goal today, and I think there's want to know.” Peter hesitates. “Do you think he would want to know, Ms. Potts?” _

_ He's vaguely aware of a May turning from the front seat, watching him with sad eyes, and Ms. Potts is taking a while to respond. She sounds all scratchy when she does like there's something wrong with her phone. He frowns; Tony really should get her a better one.  _

_ “I think he absolutely would. But I'll let you tell him that, okay? He’ll want to hear it from you.” _

_ Peter smiles wide. He's happy with that. “Okay.” _

 

* * *

 

They obtain the time stone, stolen away from Thanos after an arduous search throughout space. Everyone plays a part---but who gets to use it is far more difficult a decision.

Clint is the first to bow out. He is furious with the loss, his wife and eldest child having faded away at the snap, and he cannot possibly leave his two other kids. Nat offers to stay behind and help him, the remaining Barton children in need of all the stability they can get.

Bruce recuses himself, because the Hulk is anything but subtle and they don’t need that showing up in the history books.

Rhodey could go, they discuss briefly, but his prosthetics could fail or be damaged and he tells Tony he doesn't want to be a liability, no matter how insistent Tony is that he would never be. 

Shuri is a genius, and they consider her for a moment, but she is also still a child and the only living heir to the throne of Wakanda, and so she decides to stay.

Thor and Steve and Tony remain. It's a Mexican standoff that doesn't last long. Thor wields Stormbreaker; if Thanos returns, they will need someone equally formidable to fight and so, he stays.

There's still resentment and distrust between Tony and Steve, but neither thinks the other should go alone. There's nothing logical about sending one person, and so they put as much as they can behind them, and the clasp hands and Wong gives them a crash course on how to use the Time Stone.

There's no time for fanfare or long goodbyes. As soon as they're able, they stand with the others outside the compound, which should always have been clear lands no matter what time they manage to land in.

“Bring them home.” Barton instructs from the group.

Tony only nods, but Steve, with his usual bravado, has to have the last word.

“We will.”

 

* * *

 

_ Pepper hands Tony a phone when he slides into the car Happy has waiting for him on the tarmac. 3 months in a cave, facing mostly certain death has given him a new perspective and yeah, he wants the kid, he wants to see and talk to the kid so bad, but he wants him in front of him, wants to touch his face and smell his hair and that all has to wait just a few more days while he goes along with Obediah's dog and pony show schtick. He worries that a phone call won't be enough.  _

_ [He worries, too, that Peter won’t care either way.] _

_ He’s wrong, of course. Peter's face fills the screen, and Tony notices that he's lost a tooth since he saw him last. _

_ “Dad! Dad, you're back!” Tony watches as Peter's eye fill with tears. “Dad, I scored a goal! I scored the game winning goal!” _

_ Tony assumes it’s about soccer, but there’s no other information. He knows it’s important the way that Peter insists on it but he’s not sure he hears anything after Peter calls him Dad. He is speechless, scrambling for words to force out past the lump settling at the base of his throat. “Pete, that's...that's great kiddo, I'm so proud of you.” He manages. He can't keep from rubbing his thumb against the phone screen. “Aw, kid, I've missed you so much.” _

_ “I missed you too. Are you coming to New York soon? When are you coming home?” _

_ He wants to say right now, right that moment, but he knows Obie will have a coronary if he gets back on his plane and heads East. “Soon, kid. I promise, I will be there as soon as I possibly can.” _

 

* * *

 

This is one of those times, Tony knows. One of the times he can't tell anyone about.

Hell, he shouldn't even be here. It's not what the stone is for.

But he’s here.

The hospital smell will stick to him when he leaves, and his sneakers make noise against the linoleum beneath them. The walls are white and the light is bright, and he's careful; he may be 17 years older but he's still Tony Stark.

He stands at the window of the nursery where all the newborns are kept. They're swaddled tight, tiny and pink in cream muslin, and most are asleep. The one he is looking for is just in front, to the right. 

Its 2 am. Hardly anyone is around. He just needs to see him.

 

_ Parker, Peter Benjamin _

_ 6 lbs, 6 oz _

 

“I'll see you soon, kiddo,” he whispers softly, his finger lightly tapping the glass. He rolls the green gem with his fingers, then exits through a side door to the stairwell to meet up with Cap like they agreed. Rogers hadn't asked why or what he was doing. Things weren't exactly how they'd been before Siberia, but they were better. Strange bedfellows and all that.

“Did you get what you needed?” Steve asks when Tony approaches.

Tony nods. “Sure did. Now let's go finish saving the world.”

 

* * *

 

They hop around, decade to decade, planned out drops where they believe momentary, small changes won't make too many waves. There's been too many tropes to ignore the possibility for there to be adverse effects, too many scientists and philosophers who have asked the questions because “just because we can, doesn't mean we should.”

But they decided it was worth the risk. Half the universe is worth the risk

[is it?]

They get to 1944, in California of all places. Tony watches from afar as his father departs from a plane on an airfield, metal case handcuffed to his wrist. He tries not to think of how young Howard looks, tries not to focus on the all too familiar disappointment on his face until an older looking guy asks him a question and he pats the case, the frown morphing into a sad smile.

Steve is staring at him.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Tony sniffs, shakes his head. “Just. Really fucking weird.”

Steve doesn't even chastise his choice of words; Tony figures after the past few years, he's probably past that by now. Instead, he nods towards the group.

“The Tesseract is in that case, I'm almost positive. We just have to grab it,” Steve pauses, the enormity of the situation settling in. “And then we should be able to go home.”

_Home_. When Tony thinks of home, he thinks of Pepper, and Rhodey and  _ Peter, _ and Happy. He thinks of the lab and of movie nights with the rest of the team, although he’d never admit it.

Steve is staring at the the plane Howard has long since walked away from, an antique by Tony’s standards, something he’s only seen in movie reels and museums. Steve seems to be staring past it, into the sky, maybe at the ridge of the mountains behind them.

Tony wonders, for a moment, what home is for Steve Rogers.

 

* * *

 

“Cap, come on, we gotta go!” Tony has the case under his arm, handcuffed to his wrist. The time stone is clutched in his other hand, palm up and out, ready to leave. Steve is standing at the other side of the room, waiting for the men who have followed them to come through the door. He looks back at Tony, who finally realizes this has been Steve's plan all along.

Tony shakes his head stiffly, not even willing to consider it. “No.”

“This is where I belong, Tony.”

“No,” Tony repeats, a cavernous feeling in his chest. He knows the look Steve gets when he's set his mind at something, and he's never had it this intensely before, not even in Siberia. “Steve, stop this and get over here, I need your help to get back. It’s your home now.”

Steve has the audacity to _laugh_  at him. "You've never needed my help for anything." He lets a smile settle, and it turns sad. "I don't belong there, Tony,” Steve says, shaking his head. “I'm a man out of time, remember? Can’t survive without a war.” He’s coiled tight, ready in case the men come through the doors, but he sags a little. “And I’m tired of fighting.”

“Don’t quote Ultron at me.” Tony spits. “He was full of shit, we both know it. We’re gonna fix everything. What do I tell Bucky?”

“Bucky’ll understand. Tell him to go to Wakanda. Tell him to take care of Sam, and Natasha. Tell him that this is what I wanted.” Steve nods at him in an effort to encourage him to go. “This is my choice, Tony.”

And for all of their differences and their bad blood, Tony sheds a few tears but he nods back.

“Goodbye, Steve. I hope you find what you're looking for.”

And then, Tony twists his wrist, and it's all in the past.

 

* * *

 

_ “Dad?”  _

_ Peter and Tony are laying in his bed after a long day running around the city, to the museums. It's been a couple of years since Afghanistan, only a few months after the Stark Expo, and Tony's been spending much more time in the city, close to his son. Peter is settled in the crook of his arm, his head on his shoulder. Tony looks down at him as best he can. _

_ “Yeah, bud?” _

_Peter is messing around with some Lego trinket, one of those small motorcycle or car kits that took him all of 15 minutes to figure out. There's a movie on the television. Tony is just relaxing, enjoying the warmth of his boy._

_ “What did you think about, when you were in the desert?” _

_ Tony raises his brow. It had been long enough ago that he thought they talked it out, but the way Peter was spinning the toy in his hand made him realize otherwise. “I thought about...getting better. About getting home. To you, and Pepper, and Uncle Rhodey. Why do you ask, buddy?” _

_ Peter shrugs, looking down at his toy.  _

_“Hey, come on.” Tony bumps him. “I've been back from there a long time kiddo. You been thinking about this since then?”_

_ Peter shrugs again. “Its dumb.” _

_“It's not dumb, if it’s bothering you.”_

_ Peter shrugs one last time. “Sometimes you just go away for awhile. Not for a long time but its just cause Afghanistan was scary. Like, after awhile…” he buries his face in his dad's arm. “I was worried you might have forgotten me.” _

_Tony turns his head to the side and presses a kiss to the boys temple. “In a million years, in a million lifetimes, I could never kid. I could never forget you. You're stuck with me forever.”_

_ Peter grins. “Me neither.” he pauses for a minute. “I'm really glad you're my dad.” _

_ His dad doesn't respond for a few seconds, enough of a beat that Peter gets nervous. His dad doesn’t really do **mushy** \---yeah, he tells Peter he loves him, and he hugs him a lot, and sometimes, when he thinks Peter’s asleep, he just….stares at him, from his doorway at night. _

_ Tony finally clears his throat, about to speak again, and Peter isn’t worried about it anymore. _

_ “I am too, kiddo.” Tony kisses his temple again, before pulling him close. “I am too.” _

 

* * *

 

Tony doesn't even wait around for pleasantries when he arrives out front of the compound. He should go to Pepper---she's not at the compound when he gets back but there are photos of the two of them in his room, photos he doesn't remember taking but he can deal with that later. Happy is there though, and tells him that  _ Mrs. Stark is at the penthouse in the city but is on her way back now _ . 

Tony hears  _ Mrs. Stark _ and a sob escapes his chest. He hugs Happy as hard as he can. Happy makes some smartass comment, but there’s a soft smile on his face. The look in his eyes is unreadable to Tony, and that is what he remembers, later, when everything starts to get complicated. He should have known from the beginning that this would never be easy.

For now, he only feels the rush of success. Tony peels away and hurries down the hall to Peter's room and slides in front of it, ready to see---

Nothing. There's nothing.

Well, there's not nothing. It's a room, but it's just a spare---devoid on any particular personality, clearly presented for anyone who may need to stay a night or two. There are no movies posters or Lego models, no stacks of notebooks or photos of family, there is nothing indicating anyone else ever lived here.

Happy looks at him in bewilderment when he asks about Peter.

“I...Boss, who is Peter?”

 

* * *

 

Tony calls May shortly after. She picks up on the first ring.

“He's not here,” is how she answers the phone. He knows pity when he hears it and his heart drops to his stomach. 

It had to have worked. It's the only reason for any of it

“But I know where he is,” she continues without him having to ask. “You should come over. There's something I need to show you.”

 

* * *

 

_ “Dad, I don’t feel so good.” _

_ Tony is helplessly watching as the Guardian’s fade away. Strange catches his eye. _

_ “Tony, there was no other way...” _

_ And then the magician is gone, lost in the dirt beneath Tony’s boots. _

_ He turns to his son. _

_ Peter is stumbling towards him, a nauseating look on his face. Tony shakes his head. _

_ “You’re okay, you’re alright, you’re gonna be okay…” _

_ “Dad----” _

_ Peter trips over his feet and falls forward and Tony catches him, pulling him close. _

_ “You’re fine, you’re gonna be fine---” _

_ Tony is laying him down in the red dirt of Titan, resting his head on a rock, letting his fingers act as a pillow. He notices that Peter’s fingertips have faded away, that the rest of his arm is starting to go as well. _

_ “No. No, no, no, no, **no**." _

_ “I’m sorry.” Peter manages. “Dad, it’s gonna be alright. Dad, I love you...I love---” _

_ Tony’s hand falls through where it rests on Peter’s face and suddenly, he’s alone, hand pressing into the rock and Peter is gone. _

_ He screams. _

 

* * *

 

_ How,  _ is all that comes to his mind.

He is in May's living room, a cup of coffee steaming in front of him.

She sits across from him. There's a stack of photobooks on her lap. He's staring at a framed photo in his hands.

Its Peter---it's so clearly Peter, with his brown curls and his smile, the way his eyes crinkle up so Tony knows he really, really happy.

There's a dog. Peter had always wanted a dog. But Tony was busy, and away so often, and Peter lived with his Aunt and Uncle half the time.

Why didn't he ever get him a fucking dog?

Peter is kneeling on the ground, laughing as the dog licks his face, it's paws on Peter's shoulders. Tony guesses the photo to be a few years old, it has to be---Peter would be almost 17 _now_ but he looks a little younger in the picture; like he did when he was 14, when he was bit by the spider that changed his life.

Tony wonders, looking down at the frame, if this Peter had a spider.

Behind him, stand a man and a woman. The man has dark black hair and glasses, the woman wiry brown hair and blue eyes that Tony could never forget.

_**Richard and Mary Parker.** _

The breath leaves his lungs and he sets the frame on the seat next to him.

He can't...he can't see...his eyes dart around the room. The bathroom is where it's always been and he hurries to it, falling on the ground and retching. He stays there, resting his head on what is probably a filthy seat. He can hear May shuffle in behind him.

He can't see Peter. The new timeline is like a mirage, desperately attempting to fuse with the last one. He wonders, when it all settles, what will remain and what will be lost.

What has he lost?

“Is he happy?” Tony asks, not bothering to look up at her. “Is he safe?”

She sighs, and he knows there may not be an answer, that her mind is likely playing tricks as well.

“I think so.” she answers softly. “I called them, before you got here. I could hear him laughing in the background as I talked to Mary.” She half laughs. “He yelled hello to me, and told me he loved me.”

_ Laughing,  _ Tony thinks to himself.  _ Safe. _

“That's good,” He manages, closing his eyes against the cold porcelain. “That's real good.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wakes up on Sunday, April 29th in the wrong room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There a couple of MCU canon snippets I mess with the dialogue with because, well, this is an AU. Thanks everyone for reading!

For anyone who knew to watch for it, the change was there in the night. Painless, barely noticable; like a record that stops and skips, crackles and pops, before the needle finds the groove and keeps playing.

Tony has a wall full of televisions on, set to all different stations waiting to see how the newscasters will handle it. If they even will.

It’s slow at first. It’s almost as if nothing ever even happened. It takes actual days for the general public to realize something has gone very very awry.

The timelines merge. It's like waking up from a deep sleep for some, for those that were lost. For others, the ones who never left, it's a startling, abrupt collision of what was and what now is. The memories layer together in an attempt to reconcile two lifetimes.

Conflict is inevitable.

Then there are the Revenants, as the media coins them; the ones who have a place in the new timeline but not the first. There aren't as many of them---Tony assumes it has something to do with them eliminating the Tesseract. There's no way to know all that SHIELD had created with the power source, no way of knowing how far its influence reached.

“What are you gonna do?”

He and Pepper are laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He's been in a terrible mood---the news is saying all sorts of terrible things about him and the rest of the Avengers. That they broke the world.

And Peter is gone. Tony has talked with May a few more times. It's been about a week. She tells him to give it time, that it seems like people are slowly remembering things, that maybe he’ll come around on his own.

Tony's not sure he wants him to. He sighs, taking Pepper’s hand and snaking his fingers with hers.

“Do you even remember him?”

“Of course I do.”

But he knows, it's not the same way. Pepper's memories are like a dream, from the way she talks, like something she saw in a home movie but can't quite wrap her head around. She’s in the same boat as Peter----faded away. She doesn't remember helping bandage skinned knees, or helping at soccer practice, or going to see school plays.

[Tony dryly tells her she should be thankful for that last one, that Peter got his singing voice from _him_ ].

He worries, even if Peter does remember anything, that it'll be the same for him. That Tony will be just a distant feeling of something that might have once been but won’t quite be again.

Peter, who’s grown up with two parents and has a dog, and may not even have superhero powers. Peter, who lives just out in the suburbs, far enough away, safe and happy and maybe normal.

A life Tony could never give him, but wanted for him so badly.

“I miss him.” Tony admits, sighing deeply. “But I think he might be better off with them. Away from…” he waves his free hand.

“You're his dad.”

Tony bites his lip. “Maybe...maybe I'm not. Who knows what we've changed.” He flips onto his side towards her, close enough that his nose grazes hers. “I guess all I can do is wait and see.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter wakes up on Sunday, April 29th in the wrong room.

He blinks. Once, then twice, and then he shakes his head and rolls his eyes at himself. Not the wrong room at all, actually. His movie posters are on the opposite wall, his computer is on its desk near the door, his Lego models decorate the shelves.

He doesn't know why he thought that. Weird.

“Peter, we’re leaving in 15, you better be ready!”

He pulls the covers up to his ears and buries his face in the pillow with a groan. His dad has been on this schtick for a month, driving upstate for hikes in the middle of nowhere. It’s not that he doesn’t like hiking, but does it have to be so early? It’s still April, and it’s cold and rainy; nobody wants that, except for Bailey, the family's Samoyed.

He forces himself out of bed. He’d stayed the night at Ned’s on Friday and gone out on patrol. He glances at the corner where his sweatsuit rests in a bag, inside another bag, under a pile of clean laundry. He’ll have to wait until sometime this week to wash it so his parents don’t see. He gets dressed quickly and grabs his boots before heading downstairs to the kitchen. His stomach grumbles at the smell of breakfast---his mom is cooking bacon.

He slides into the kitchen and he can hear his dad move the newspaper with a hum. “So nice of you to join us.”

Peter throws him a dour look and falls into a chair to put on his shoes, but then he stops. His hands freeze on his laces and his heart begins to race as his senses begin to scream at him that something is wrong, something is _very very_ wrong. He tries to keep from breathing so fast, and looks back up.

It’s his dad. It is. But----

Panic claws from inside his chest, but he’s not sure where it’s coming from. It’s his Dad. But it’s not. It’s not his dad, where is his dad?

“ _Dad, I don’t feel so good_.”

He swallows. He can feel the sweat bead on his forehead. His dad must notice now, because he looks over the paper with concern. “Pete, you okay?”

“ _Dad, It’s going to be alright…_ ”

Another beat. Peter’s head is spinning, He’s pretty sure he’s gonna be sick but there’s nothing in his stomach to throw up.

Tony Stark, in his Iron Man suit, is on the front page of the paper his dad has now set on the table.

“ _Dad, I love you. I lo----_ ”

He slides from the chair onto his knees and retches bile and spit all over the floor.

 

 

* * *

 

 

His parents decide that maybe today isn’t the best day for him to be hiking in the drizzly, cool weather.

What with all the bile and whatnot.

But that’s not going to stop them. He doesn’t have a fever, but his mom still fusses over him for a few minutes while she settles him on the couch with a blanket and crackers and soup. Bailey sits at his side, eyeing him forlornly, and offers a paw in comfort though her harness is on and she’ll be going out as well. His dad is watching him from across the room with a frown on his face.

“Are you sure…?”

Peter sighs dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. “Yes, I’m sure, dad.” With his free hand, he pets the dog at his side and peeks out up at him _, Richard, his dad_ \---he’s not even sure what the hell happened at breakfast. He feels fine now, and while there is still a feeling of unease he can't seem to shake, he is no longer the feeling of complete panic. Peter is just embarrassed about the whole thing.

And he _really_ doesn’t want to go on that hike.

“Okay then,” His dad says, clearly not completely convinced. “Well, we’ll stay within service range. You make sure to call us or Aunt May if you start feeling worse, okay? I sent her a text to let her know you weren’t feeling well.”

That elicits a weird tingling sensation in his brain, but he pushes it away. This whole layout has him on edge, the morning’s memory tugging at his consciousness. Something is _wrong_ , his spider sense is practically screaming. _I don’t know what. I don’t know why but it’s wrong._

Peter sighs, brushing his face again. “I’ll be fine, dad, I’m 16.”

Richard rolls his eyes. “Ah yes, how can I forget.” He ruffles his son’s hair. Peter fights an inexplicable urge to pull away.

“We should be back by five. Make sure to get some rest.” His mom places a kiss on the top of his head, adjusting the blanket. As they walk towards the door, he waves a goodbye and settles back against the pillow.

There’s no distress.

But, at the same time, it’s all _just weird_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony's in the lab when Pepper bursts in without knocking. Tony's been spending most of his time in the lab, distracting himself from the fact that wih each day that passes, the noise around what they've done has just gotten louder and louder.

“You're not watching the news, are you?” She demands, breathless. She knows it's been bothering him, listening to everyone theorize and analyze and criticize, when they don't even really _know_ how bad it was. She picks up the remote anyway and turns on the tv where it hangs on the wall.

She flips to a local station. A video fills the screen, of a figure in blue and red, swinging from building to building.

Friendly, neighborhood Spiderman.

Tony tries not to let himself hope. But he smiles.

“Well, I'll be damned.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter is thankful that Ned still lives so close to his Aunt May. He’s also thankful that Ned doesn’t mind Peter using him as an excuse so he can get out and patrol the neighborhood.

The past couple weeks have been confusing; he hasn't been out on patrol since he had that panic attack at the dining room table. The news gets more bizarre by the day, tensions around the world rising as more people come to understand what has transpired, trying to figure out what the Avengers have done. His parents laugh it off, but he can tell it’s making them more and more nervous. He’s heard his mom talking to his dad, saying they need to talk to May. They don’t have the warring dreams. They are beginning to understand that probably means something terrible.

Peter perches on a rooftop in the dusk, chewing on a sandwich. He has a couple of hours before his dad is going to be at Ned’s. They only moved out to the suburbs a few years prior, not far from downtown. He’s just thankful he still can go to Midtown, though the commute might be longer.

He hangs out at Ned’s two or three times a week, sometimes staying a weekend night there or with Aunt May. She’s been having a hard go of it, since Uncle Ben died a few years before. Peter had been with him, just after he’d been bitten by the spider, and he hadn’t been able to save him. It’s part of the reason he does this.

He finishes his sandwich and stands up, stretching before pulling the bottom of his mask back over the lower half of his face. In the distance, he can hear a woman and a man yelling in a building a little over a mile away, so he thinks he’ll check that out. He is about to pounce, curled in position when another sound catches his attention.

Thrusters. He straightens and turns, alarms sounding in his brain. _Tony Stark_ is there, suspended in the air in front of him.

“Whoa…” He breathes, straightening up. “Holy shit, Iron Man! What are you doing here?”

The Avenger hovers in the air and doesn’t answer. He lets himself land on the rooftop with a jarring sound, straightening up. “Saw you on the news over the weekend, thought I’d check in.” He pauses. “I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course it’s alright, you’re Iron Man!” Peter exclaims for a second time. “Sir, it is...this is crazy.”

“Call me Tony.” Iron Man responds. His voice is shielded a bit by the machine it filters through, but Peter thinks it sounds a little...flat. It doesn’t have quite the vibrato he’s used to hearing from Tony Stark’s interviews, the quippy wit the world has come to associate with the man. “You been doing this awhile, Pete?”

_Pete_. Peter perks up at the familiarity. “Did we...we knew each other, didn’t we? Before all the stuff with the alien guy happened? That’s why you’re here? Because I’m an Avenger, aren’t I?!” Peter bounces on the balls of his feet, his heart racing. “I knew it, I knew there was something…!"

“Slow down, slooooow down.” Tony holds his hands up, his voice tight. “You’re not an Avenger. You were for….like, like a second, but you’re not anymore.” He pauses, tilting his head the other way. Peter doesn’t know if he’ll ever get over how bizarre it is to see. “I am just checking in, is all. I want to make sure you’re not doing anything stupid or reckless.”

That’s kind of odd. And insulting. Peter frowns. “I’m almost 17.”

“Which isn’t 18. You’re still a kid. You should be focusing on school and girls...or boys, whatever is your thing.”

Peter’s face flushes under his mask, the comment weirdly making him feel completely mortified. He has the urge to groan, as if...almost like when Aunt May or his mom have picked on him for talking a little too much about Liz, or MJ.

“Mr. Stark. Were we…” Peter starts to get the feeling they didn't just know each other casually. He doubted other superheroes went out of their way to check in and make sure one another were okay if they weren’t _at least_ friends. He feels a tingling at the base of his neck that unsettles him. “We were friends, weren’t we?”

Tony doesn’t answer him. “Do your mom and dad know what you’re up to during the week?”

“No!” Peter rushes, his other question forgotten. “Mr. Stark, you can’t tell them.”

Tony boosts back into the air. “And I won’t. As long as you stay close to the ground.” He snorts, shaking his head. “And that onesie…”

Well, now Peter’s just offended. “It’s not a onesie, Mr. Stark, I worked really hard---.”

“Can it, kid.” Tony cuts him off. He grumbles to himself, something Peter can’t hear before he lets out a sigh. “I’ve got something for you, something from before. Do not go out again until you have it. It’ll help you with all this.” He looks out over the city, surveying the horizon. “It’s starting to get late. You heading in soon?”

Peter watches him, noticing how Tony has partially turned away. “It’s like 7. I have at least two hours until my Dad picks me up.”

Peter swears he sees the armored man flinch, but passes it off as a trick of the light.

“Fine.” Tony nods, and then points at him. “Keep an eye out. I’ll make sure you get what you need.”

“So I’ll see you again?” Peter asks, stepping forward. “Soon?”

Tony turns to him where he hovers, head tilted once more. “We’ll see, kid.”

He takes off without another word in the direction of upstate New York and Peter watches him go until he becomes a dot of light in the sky amongst the stars.

 

 

* * *

 

  
He gets to Ned’s with 15 minutes to spare and his Dad shows up a few minutes after. The ride home is uneventful. His dad asked innocuous questions about school, and Ned’s parents. Richard changes the station when the news starts to talk about the villain who now has a name--- _Thanos_ (Peter gets a chill up his spine)---and they don’t at all talk about what is happening around them.

He kisses his mom goodnight and jumps into the shower, closing his eyes to focus on the sound of the water, hoping to drown out their hushed conversation. They’re worried. He’s been acting kind of weird, he knows he has.

He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell them it’s fine, that there’s no war going on inside of him like everyone else who is on these talk shows, but that would be a lie. But in order to tell them the truth…

He looks at the pile of dirty laundry, where the sack that contains his Spiderman uniform is. He’d have to tell them everything.

That’s just not an option, not right now.

It’s like there’s a block in his brain, a persistent nagging that something is just not right. It’s like he’s underwater, and he can see the surface, he just can’t quite break through the waves.

He feels a little worried, a little scared; like this either ends with him reaching the surface or losing something he can't know enough about to miss.

Bailey appears at his door with a soft whine and a gentle scratch, so Peter opens it so she can push her way in. She immediately darts to her spot at the foot of his bed, curling up near the footboard, looking up at him expectantly.

“I know, I know. I'm too late for you.” He says with a soft laugh, rubbing her head. He drops the towel and grabs a sleepshirt to put on with his boxers before he slides into bed.

He smiles, letting his eyes close. His mom must have washed his sheets because they smell fresh, soft and warm. He curls up with his pillow and clicks the lamp beside his bed. The sounds of the outside filter in through the screen of the open window closest to his door.

It’s been a beautiful night at least.

Sleep finds Peter easily. It usually does on the nights he patrols. His dreams have been kind of harried lately. May’s been in them a _lot_ \---same with MJ and Ned. And even some of the Avengers--not in great detail, but he remembers an airport, and some wizards, and Captain America telling him he had _heart_. He knew he’d been an Avenger---he just knew _it_.

It’s soft now. Safe. Warm. He hears a tv in the distance---maybe his mom or dad left it on--- and snuggles closer to his pillow and he feels a body next to him, and it’s only then he realizes he’s in a dream.

There’s a hand at his head. He smells...grease. Cologne. A little bit of sweat. He asks a question, and his voice is high and soft and he realizes, quite suddenly, he’s not 16 anymore.

“In a million years,” He hears Tony Stark’s voice, low and soothing but strong. “In a million lifetimes, I could never forget you kid.”

His throat constricts. He blinks. He’s somewhere else.

“You’re out past your bedtime, kiddo.” Peter has a mask on, he’s close to the ground and Iron Man is behind him, arm extended, repulsor out. A giant, poor man’s Iron Man lays on the ground in front of him, smoke pouring from a gaping hole in it’s chest. Tony’s face plate is open, but he doesn’t look mad---he looks worried. Peter hears the sound of heels approaching but all he sees is Tony take off into the sky.

Then he’s back on the rooftop from earlier that night, except now it’s daylight, and the Iron Man suit is there, and Tony is stepping out of it.

And boy, does he look _pissed_.

“You did the one thing I told you not to do!”

“I wanted to be like you!”

“And I wanted you to be better.” Tony says, and his disappointed tone cuts like a knife. “I’m gonna need the suit back…”

“Dad, I’m sorry!”

He wakes up. It’s so weird that that’s where it wakes him up---he realizes his face is wet with tears and his chest feels like it’s caved in with some kind of longing he finally understands.

Dad.

_Dad_.

He presses his face into the quilt of his bed and sobs. His Dad. Tony Stark was his Dad.

Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy _fuck_!

Bailey whines at his distress, army crawling up the bed to press her paws against his chest and lick at Peter’s face. He runs his hands into her fur, curling his fingers around it.

He’d been wanting his Dad. He’d been waiting for him this whole time.

Peter only opens his door to let the dog go downstairs so she can go outside. His mom calls up about breakfast and he yells down that he’ll be down in a little bit, he just wants to wash up.

He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror and splashes cold water on his face. He slept well---most of it was restful, aside from the abrupt awakening---but he cannot stop seeing Tony staring at him on the roof in the daylight, torn and angry, disappointed as Peter cried out an objection.

The scent of grease and sweat hangs in his nostrils, stuck in the back of his throat.

He dresses quickly and tries to shake away everything he’s seen. It’s like a levy has broken, and now he can hear Tony everywhere, in everything. That’s why as he pulls on a hoodie, he thinks it’s a trick his eyes are playing when he sees a bag by the window, a paper sack that he didn’t put there. The screen is even still in place---or put back, rather. He walks over to it, thumbs at the slip of paper stapling it shut. He tries not to cry again.

_This belongs to you._  
_T.S._

And Peter knows, with a sinking feeling, that he has to have a talk with his mom and dad.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“ _I_ am your father,” Richard grinds out, and Peter realizes he’s always known about Tony Stark.

And that’s when everything explodes.

His mom and dad are on the phone with May for an hour in his father’s study after shooing Peter out of the room. When they emerge, his mom looks like she’s been crying and Richard looks defeated. Peter can’t help but hug him; Richard weakly pats him on his shoulder.

“I remember both of you,” Peter says softly, and Richard goes stiff and pulls back. His mother has started crying again, but she manages to summarize the call.

“We were going to see if you want to stay with May for a few weeks,” She begins. “It’s closer to your school anyway.”

“You want me to _leave_?”

“No.” His mother insists strongly. “This is your home. _We_ are your family, but...” She stops to collect herself. “We’re not too sure what happened but it must have been bad. And I think she may have answers for you that we can’t provide.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter says, looking away. “I wish it wasn’t like this.”

“This isn’t your fault. I don’t think it’s anyone’s fault.” His mom says. She pulls him close, kissing his temple. He feels the warmth of her tears at the side of his head.

Richard doesn’t meet his eyes.

He doesn’t seem to be so sure of that at all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I *need* to finish my other story but this one won't leave me alone. The good news is, if you like it, that the next (last) chapter is like...200 words from being done. As always, please let me know what you think and thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being like 8k words, so I split it up so I can work on the last chapter a little more cause i'm not crazy about it. but here's something until then!

Mary Parker drops her son at his Aunt’s close to the city with a kiss to his forehead. She holds his cheek, examines his face. She tells him she loves him.

 

“We’re gonna figure it out.” She assures. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

 

May shows him to his room. It’s a full sized bed, neatly made, a laptop on the desk. In the corner, there’s a poster for The Empire Strikes Back, an original by the looks of it and he says so. She smiles softly.

 

“A gift,” she explains. “You can take it when you go home, but we wanted to make sure you felt comfortable here. A little like home.”

 

He doesn’t ask who “we” is. His parents know his taste but he’s not sure they’d be willing to spend the money to buy him something like that. He’s not sure they’d even think about decorating a room they surely didn’t think of as his when his real* room was still across the hall from their own.

 

May has ground rules. Peter tries to keep his face still when she bluntly tells him that she knows about his…. _extracurricular_ activities in the borough. She gives him permission to continue so long as he stays close to the ground and doesn’t get involved in anything too dangerous.

 

“There are other people who deal with those sorts of things,” She tells him. “We can let them know, and they’ll handle it.”

 

Peter stays quiet about helping. Knows that’s not going to help him any. He hasn’t heard from Tony since his life began to get crazy. He wonders how much Tony even knows about his new living situation. If he even might care.

 

“There’s this amazing* Thai place around the corner if you’re up for it,” May tells him their first night. “I would cook, but I think you’ve been through enough this past week.”

 

He tries the larb when May recommends it.

 

It’s good.

* * *

 

 

He goes out a few times a week. He talks to his parents every day. They’ve been talking with May regularly too, and they’ve pieced together the basics of what happened before Tony Stark and Steve Rogers messed with things they probably shouldn’t have.

 

“A plane crash,” Peter can hear his father’s voice, strained, coming from May’s earpiece. She thinks he’s sleeping---or maybe she knows he can hear and she doesn’t care.

 

“It was unexpected. We took Peter in. Money was tight. We needed the help.” She paused. “I know you probably don’t want to hear it but Tony was a wonderful father. He took care of him as much as we did, if not more...”

 

Peter stops listening, slipping on his headphones. He doesn’t want to hear the rest.

 

* * *

 

It’s a drizzly, gray Saturday when Peter finally decides to ignore what he’s been told to do. Or rather, what not to do.

 

He’s almost 17 years old. Only a year from being an adult in his own right. And as he’s relaxed more about what’s happening, as he’s let his mind wander and search for his other memories, he knows he fought with the Avengers before. He knows he fought aliens, for christ's sake.

 

Thanos may not be an immediate threat any longer, but that doesn’t mean the bad guys go away. So when he sees smoke billowing from Manhattan, he doesn’t lay low and stay away. He charges headlong into it.

 

_ You did the one thing I told you not to do. _

 

He ignores the memory of Tony chewing him out on the rooftop. This is different. He can help, he helped a lot with the aliens and the wizards and Titan. He swings to the top of a high building, trying to get a read on the situation. He is so engrossed in trying to figure out what was happening, he doesn’t see the winged figure glide above him.

 

Iron Man shows up about 30 seconds later. The sound of his armor landing hard pulls Peter from his concentration, and he turns to find the armored suit stalking over to him. 

 

“What did May say?” Tony says, pointing a metal finger at Peter. “What _specifically_ did she tell you about patrolling?”

 

“So you can talk to May but you can’t talk to me.”

 

The faceplate of the armor slides back and Tony is there, glaring. “You wanna do this now?”

 

“I want to help!” Peter insists. “I didn’t do such a bad job last time.”

 

“Debatable.” But Tony walks over and sighs heavily. “Fine. We’ll deal with this after. See here?” He points down to the ground. Peter can see figures swarming around what looks to be a giant mechanical walking _thing_. Peter nods.

 

“Okay, you can deal with them. Lure them away on the side streets and then do your thing. Under no circumstances---none///----are you to engage with anything other than that. Understood?”

 

Peter nods. He understands fine. 

 

But they’d see how it panned out.

 

* * *

 

Peter thinks he did okay.

 

There were about 12 guys moving with the machine, 2 on each side, 1 at each corner. Peter had dropped down low, done as Tony had instructed and one by one, helped pick them off as they moved down the street. He’d noticed Clint Barton and Black Widow were around as well, working towards the same goal and he only once engaged the man in the machine, and that was when he’d been explicitly tasked with tying him up with webbing.

 

And it was only after that, as he worked his way to higher ground, that he notices how much his arm is throbbing. He cradles it as best he can, settling on a covered generator near a water tower.

 

He’s like, 80% sure it’s broken. He won’t know for sure until the suit is all the way off, but it’s bent at a weird angle and it feels warm and like it has its own heartbeat. There’s a buzzing in his ears and he feels a little out of it, and somewhere in his mind, he wonders if he’s going into shock.

 

Peter hears the suit before he sees it. Iron Man lands on the roof, the Falcon and Rhodey coming in behind them, settling on the other side. The faceplate slips up quick and Tony hurries over, kneeling on the ground. 

 

“Let me see it,” Tony insists, reaching for his wrist. Peter jerks away instinctively and doesn’t catch the hurt look that passes over Tony’s face.

 

“Peter. I saw you favoring your left arm, I know you’re hurt. I need to see it if I’m gonna help.” He pauses. “I’m not gonna be mad.”

 

“You’ll take the suit.” 

 

“I promise, I won’t.”

 

Peter watches him, uncertain and wary, but he sits up straighter from where he’s guarding the injured wrist and lets Tony reach out.

 

Tony is gentle and slow, careful not to jostle it. He doesn’t do much---they won’t know for sure until they get the suit off, but Tony frowns and sits back. 

 

“Pretty sure that’s not the way a wrist is supposed to bend, buddy. Guys,” He turns to Sam and Rhodey behind him. “Can you help with the cleanup? I’m gonna take him to the Tower.”

 

“Pete,” He starts. “I’m gonna pick you up, alright? I’m gonna be as gentle as I can but try and hold your arm so it doesn’t move that much, okay?”

 

Peter nods. He looks up at Tony---at his _dad_ \---as he’s lifted into the air. “You sold the Tower.”

 

Tony half smiles. “Not this time, I didn’t.” The faceplate slides into place and Peter can feel the suit begin to hum before it takes off. “Hold on.” 

 

* * *

 

The first thing Tony does after making sure Peter is in good hands is excuse himself. He calls May in the hallway, eyes darting around for people who shouldn’t hear.

 

She doesn’t say hello. She picks up on the second ring, her voice tight. “This is going to make me mad, isn’t it?”

 

“He’s okay. He broke his wrist, but he’s okay.”

 

“God _dammit_.”

 

“I did my best to keep him from getting involved, but you know how he can be.”

 

“Frankly, I’m surprised it took him this long.” She sighs deeply on the other end of the phone. “We can’t keep doing this. It’s not fair to Richard and Mary. We have to figure something out.”

 

A door opens into the hall, and one of the nurses appears. 

 

“Sir, the young man is requesting that you be in the room before we begin setting the break.”

 

That made sense. “May, I gotta go,” He tells her. “I’ll give you a call when he’s all patched up. Is it alright if he stays the night?”

 

Another deep sigh comes from the speaker. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. But we need to do something after this gets all worked out.”

 

“I agree.” He says with a nod. “Okay, I’ll call you later, let you know how everything goes.”

 

He hurries back in. The nanotech armor has receded and he’s in his thin hoodie and sweatpants that are standard under his suit. Peter has been stripped of the Spiderman suit and is in something similar. His arm is curled up on his chest and he's staring up at Tony, eyes wide and glassy---probably from a mix of shock and whatever pain medicine they're pumping into him. Tony has to concentrate on keeping his expression neutral.

 

He’ll never be okay with seeing his kid in pain.

 

“How’s it going, doc?”

 

Helen Cho looked up with a smile. “Peter is doing well. We have an IV for pain, for when we reset it. There’s gonna be some discomfort though, a little pressure.”

 

Peter hasn’t taken his eyes off of him. Tony offers a half smile. “You’re gonna give me a complex, kid.”

 

Peter’s face flushes. “Sorry.” His good hand is pressed against the spongy chair he’s resting on, his fingers scrambling to find something solid to grab onto. The heart monitor is racing---the prospect of snapping bone back into place would make anyone uneasy. Without really thinking, Tony grabs the kid’s good hand and squeezes. 

 

“You’re gonna be fine. Dr. Cho is gonna take real good care of you.”

 

Tony wants to smooth the kid's hair and wipe away the clamminess on his forehead but he’s not sure what Peter knows or remembers, not completely. May has filled him in enough; he knows Peter knows who he is, that there are some things he remembers, but he doesn’t know how much he believes or if he’s embraced any of it. He figures the fact that the kid hasn’t pushed back against his grasp is a good sign.

 

Dr. Cho and the staff are bustling around. The light overhead is hot and Peter’s chest is rising and falling faster than normal. He hasn’t stopped looking at Tony, but he can tell Peter is a little calmer than when he first came back in the room. 

 

That’s probably a good sign too,

 

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers again, closing his eyes, his head lolling back so it's flat on the pillow, facing towards the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

 

The staff around doesn’t miss a beat---if they caught it, they either already know or are ignoring it. Either way, Tony is grateful because, at that moment, he knows he can’t hide the look on his face. He barely keeps his mouth shut, steeling himself to keep it together, but all he can think about is how he was sure he’d never hear Peter call him that again. And sure, the kid is all hopped up on pain meds and is scared, but…

 

Screw it.

 

Tony reaches out with his free hand, the back of his knuckles brushing at Peter’s head first, then smoothing back the rest of his hair. He presses a kiss to the kids hairline, quickly, before anyone can see. Peter leans into it, his eyes still closed, but hums softly. 

 

“You’re alright, Pete,” And this time, Tony knows he can say it. He knows he’s right this time, that the Infinity Stones are gone, that Thanos is not a threat, that his words are true. It may be a broken arm, but this is what he wants Peter to think of when he hears this from him---warm and safe. “You’re gonna be alright.”

 

* * *

 

Peter stays the night. He doesn’t really remember the night before---he’d been given some pretty heavy painkillers and he wakes up to Tony and Pepper making breakfast, and a fresh cast that cuts off just below his elbow.

 

“Um. Good morning.” He greets them, walking into the large, shared space of the main suite. 

 

“Morning,” Tony says back. He lifts a mug in greeting. “Coffee?”

 

“Please.” 

 

There’s a plate quickly made as well, with toast and eggs and sausage. He picks at it while Pepper and Tony banter back and forth, before Pepper kisses Tony and begs off for something work-related. Peter doesn’t miss the uncertain glance she throws back at him before she leaves the room, like she doesn’t know what she should say or not.

 

Tony slides onto a stool across the island from him, taking a sip of his coffee. “How are you feeling this morning?” 

 

“Sore,” Peter answers, stretching out his arm. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble. 

 

“Occupational hazard.” Tony quips. “You’re fine, kid. Last night was just...par for the course.” 

 

“Hm,” Peter hums, biting off a piece of sausage. He chews for a second, staring at his plate before swallowing. “Are we gonna talk about…” He motions with his hand holding the fork, not meeting Tony’s gaze. 

 

“That’s a loaded question, kid, you’re gonna have to narrow that one down.”

 

“You’re my dad.”

 

Tony pauses. He looks away, stays quiet for a second or two. He clears his throat. 

 

“One of them, yes,” Tony answers evenly. 

 

“But you were like....my only one until you and Captain America did whatever you did.”

 

Tony stiffens at the mention of the missing Avenger. “We did what we had to do to make things right.”

 

“Where is he?”

 

Tony shrugs. “Gone. Elected to stay behind.”

 

“Stay behind?”

 

“It’s a long story,” Tony replies. “Time travel. Magic, stuff like that.” He shakes his head. “He’s not coming back, let’s just leave it at that.”

 

Peter realizes he’s not going to get the story now; that he may never. He sighs. “Okay, so then…”

 

“I assume this is the what happens now moment,” Tony says with a flip of his hands. Peter is not sure what to do, so he shrugs.

 

“I mean...I have a feeling I’m gonna get overruled if I say I want to be an Avenger and live at the Compound with you.”

 

“You would be correct.” Tony sips at his coffee. “And _I_ would guess you’re gonna push back on me when I say I think if you took some time to think about it, that is probably not really what you’re gonna want to do anyway.”

 

Peter scowls. “Why do you always think you know what I want to do?”

 

“Weelllll….” Tony makes some sort of so-so motion with his shoulders, then saunters over to sit on the stool next to Peter. The half-joking smile he was forcing on the situation fades. “Peter. You have a whole other life with them. I know you. You can’t just throw that away. I wouldn’t want you to do that. You’re a better person than that.”

 

“I’m not gonna stop being Spiderman. I’ve always been Spiderman.”

 

Tony nods. “I’m not suggesting you stop being Spiderman.” He pauses. “I _am_ going to suggest more defined boundaries though. Ones we can discuss...with your parents.”

 

Peter shakes his head and pushes himself up from his seat. “No. We can’t tell them, no. Mom will never go for that.”

 

“I don’t feel right lying to them. May doesn’t feel right lying to them. This is the way things are now, and you’re just gonna have to make adjustments.”

 

“They’re never gonna let me be a swinging vigilante in New York City, this…” He waves his arm between the two them. “Is probably gonna be bad enough.”

 

Tony shrugs. “Don’t know what to tell you, kid.” He grabs his coffee, heading towards the couch in the living area. 

 

Peter hates it when Tony is so determined, so set in his mind that Peter doesn't even get a say. He forces himself not to clench his fists at his sides, he forces himself to try and calm down, but it doesn’t make it the whole way through. 

 

“You just don’t want to be the bad guy. You don’t want to be the one to take my suit away, you want them to do it.” 

 

The accusatory offensive route is the wrong way to go. Tony stills for a moment before setting his mug down on the side table, turning around with a dark look on his face.

 

“Ignoring the fact that I’m the one that _gave_ you the suit before you’d put any of this back together...don't you get it, Peter? I _am_ the bad guy in this situation. Have you not been watching the news?” 

 

“Tony…”

 

“I understand where you’re coming from. I get the teenage rebellion and all of that, but Peter, I’m not sure what you remember, what you don’t but you _died_. You fucking died.” Tony is almost shaking, his voice is high and tight and Peter knows better than to interrupt him. “And as your father, that just...was not an acceptable outcome. So I did what I had to and I kinda fucked up the world, and I have to do what it takes to help alleviate some of that. We are not keeping this secret from them.”

 

Peter doesn’t mean the next thing that comes out of his mouth, but he hates that he’s being yelled at for wanting to help. He hates how his brain feels like it's being pulled in every direction, that the one real thing making him feel worthy and important and defined---when he has never felt so confused about who he is in his entire life---might be taken away from him, and he snaps.

 

“Well, sorry me being your kid was such a raw deal for you.” 

 

Peter thinks he might as well have slapped Tony, for the look that takes the place of the anger on his face. He grasps behind him to steady himself on the couch. 

 

“That is _not_ what I said…”

 

“I know,” Peter interrupts, already regretting it. “I’m sorry, but…”

 

Tony holds up a hand. “You’re allowed to angry, Pete, don’t apologize. I just want to make sure you understand…” He pauses, eyes darting around as he chooses his words carefully. He straightens up, clears his throat. “I want you to understand one thing, beyond all others. Being your dad was the best deal I ever got. Most of the time I wonder what I ever did right to deserve it.” He swallows. “But losing you was impossible. And it’s not just us now. And I won’t let it happen again.” He shrugs. "I didn’t show up on day one because I really thought it would be better for you to be with your mom and dad. Safer.”

 

“I don’t care about that,” Peter says softly, his heart racing. His throat is closing up, and his eyes are itching. 

 

“Well, I do. And so will they. And they deserve a say in this.” Tony shakes his head. “I know you don’t think it’s fair. I’m sorry about that. I hate to sound like a dad, but life’s not always fair.”

 

Peter slumps back down onto the stool, aware he’s not going to win this argument. “What if they tell me I can’t see you anymore?”

 

“Then we’ll deal with that then,” Tony assures, and he pushes off from leaning on the sofa and shuffles over to him, placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “But I can’t imagine that’s gonna be the case. I don’t remember a whole lot about your mom, but I remember her being pretty reasonable.”

 

Peter’s nose wrinkles. “Please spare me the details.”

 

Tony smirks, chucking Peter on the chin softly. “We’ll talk to May, get it sorted out with your folks.” He sobers. “I just want what’s best for you, kid. Always do.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Mmhmm.” Tony raises his brows. “I’m gonna go get a shower. Entertain yourself, you have access to most of the penthouse---I know you might not remember how to work the system, but the TV and stuff are pretty intuitive. When I get done, we’ll get you back over to May’s.” He turns to leave, raising a pointed finger as he walks away. “And finish your breakfast!”

 

Peter sighs, rolling his eyes. 

 

_ Yes, Dad.  _


	4. Chapter 4

Peter spends another week and a half at May's, just enough to make sure his super healing takes care of his wrist so he doesn’t have to share that information with his parents just yet. Peter sees Tony a few more times, and May coordinates a dinner with Richard and Mary for another week later. 

He and May arrive earlier in the morning. Bailey goes nuts---Peter hasn’t been gone more than an overnight stay at friends homes in the 3 years they’ve had her and he can’t stop laughing as he kneels on the floor, letting her jump on his shoulders and assault him with puppy kisses.

When he stands up, he surveys the living room. May has already walked into the kitchen, speaking in hushed tones to his mom. 

It’s been almost 3 weeks since he’s been home. He’s talked with his parents every day over video chat, even had lunch a few times with them when they’ve been downtown for work. They’ve avoided any sort of discussion related to Tony, or whatever happened to precipitate the world losing its collective mind. Until today, Peter and his parents lived in some kind of insulated bubble, ignoring the giant elephant in the room. 

Until today.

Peter stuffs his hands in his pockets and follows the dog as it trots towards the kitchen. His mom is talking with May, wiping her hands off behind a huge breakfast spread that he’s pretty sure includes anything he’d ever want to eat. 

She turns when she hears him, and she blinks a few times, her eyes sheening over. 

“Aw, mom, please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying.” She insists and makes her way over to him to give him a hug. “I’m just so happy you’re _home_.”

He’s happy too if he’s honest. He’s been so mixed up since everything happened, and he’s been so tightly wound, he didn’t realize how much missing home had been part of this.

He wonders if there’s anything about this that won’t ever be completely and totally messed up.

“Where’s Dad?”

Mary steps back, a hand on Peter’s face. “He’s in his office. He’s...he’s still adjusting, to everything.” Her mouth twists, eyelids fluttering. “He’ll be okay.”

Peter forces a smile and begins to pick at the mini-muffins his mother has laid out. 

“How is Tony, then?” 

Peter begins to cough, a gasp sucking a piece of the pastry into his windpipe. The women sidle up to either side of him, his mom patting his back. He coughs one last time, and May hands him a glass of water.

“Thanks.” He sips at it. “Tony? Tony is…” He trails off, looking at May for help. 

“Tony is fine. He’s really looking forward to dinner tonight.”

A voice comes from behind him. “Well, that’s good to hear. Mary is preparing quite the feast.”

Peter’s heart clenches in his chest. “Dad.” He whispers spinning around. He’s seen him, sure, in the past few weeks. But it was always under a different context, and in a neutral place and now he’s home, and Tony is coming, and his dad, though showered and dressed in normal clothes, he looks tired. 

He thinks about how Tony handles stress, in completely the opposite way---greasy hair, dirty clothes, hours upon hours of sleepless nights.

Mostly, thinking of Tony, he’s annoyed at how right the man was about how he was going to feel about this life.

Peter has missed his other dad, too.

He hurries over to him, hugging him tightly and Richard slowly wraps his arms around him as well, relaxing into him. 

“We’re happy you’re home,” Richard mutters into his hair. “Have you had a good time with Aunt May?”

“Yeah. We eat out like 3 times a week.”

“Well, that’s just for your own safety.” Richard comments, flashing a wink at May over Peter’s shoulder. He redirects his attention to the breakfast foods set out on the kitchen island, pressing a kiss to Mary’s head before grabbing a piece of bacon and popping it in his mouth. “So. When will Mr. Stark be arriving?”

“He said around 6.” Peter answers. “Sometimes he gets in his head about work and stuff. I don’t think Pepper will let that happen though.”

There’s quiet at the familiarity in how he talks about him. It’s not clinical, not something instructional from a newspaper article; it’s the tone of a kid whose parent has been late to the end of practice or getting them somewhere they need to be. The other three adults shift where they stand, looking at each other. Richard seems to make the decision first. 

“Well then,” He claps his hand. “It’s still early. How about we grab Bailey, and go for a hike?”

 

* * *

 

“You need to calm down.”

Tony is sitting in the back seat of his car, the divider up in front of him and Pepper sitting at his side. He’s fiddling with the windows set on the inside of the door, looking over at her.

“I’m fine.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Pepper rolls her eyes. “You’re Iron Man. You brought like, 3.5 billion people back to life. You can handle a dinner in the suburbs of Manhattan.”

“I don’t feel very supported right now.”  

He’s joking, of course. Pepper has been nothing but resiliently supportive the entire time she’d been in his life, even when she was angry at him. 

She scoffs. “Something tells me you’ll survive.” And then she lays a hand on his knee and squeezes. “It’s going to be okay. Peter will make sure it’s okay. And you said it yourself, Mary didn’t seem like the vindictive type.”

“Hmm.”

They pull up a few minutes before 6. Not late, not overly early. It’s May that meets them at the door, an easy smile on her face.

“Are you ready?” She breathes a soft laugh. “They’ve been out all day hiking and stuff, so Peter and Richard are cleaning up.”

“100%,” Tony replies, stepping into the house. Pepper follows, a bag in hand that contains a bottle of wine and whiskey that is probably as much as the home’s mortgage payments. 

_“Mary always liked red wine,” Tony had insisted. “Just do it. If they really don’t want it, we’ll take it home.”_

Mary is there, in their living room, standing at a distance. She smiles as Tony comes into view. Pepper hangs back with May.

“Well. Hello, Tony.” Mary smiles. “It’s been awhile.”

And even though it’s incredibly awkward, Tony still grins back. “It so unfortunately has.”

 

* * *

 

The three of them are making small talk, sitting across from each other in the living room when Peter comes loping down the stairs, taking them two at a time. He lands on the wood floor and grins when he realizes they’ve got company.

“Tony, Pepper!” He smiles and slides to a stop in front of them. “Hey, Mom.”

“Peter,” She leans over, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Is your da---is Richard still upstairs?”

A quiet discomfort settles over the room. Peter clears his throat. “Um, yeah, I think he’s still getting ready.” He turns towards Pepper and Tony. “We went hiking today, so we were kind of rank.”

“We appreciate that,” May comments with a wink. “Mary, is there anything that needs to be done in the kitchen?”

Mary rose from the couch with a nod. “If you don’t mind, yes, we need to start getting everything out.”

“Let me join you guys,” Pepper adds, hurrying after them, tossing a look back at Tony and Peter as she left them alone. 

Tony smiles. “Subtle as a brick through a window.”

Peter responds with a shaky smile, then steps forward and puts his arms around his father. They stand there for a second, and Tony presses a hand to his back. “You doing okay, kid?”

“Yeah,” Peter sighs, pulling back. “Thank you for coming. I know it’s weird.”

Tony shrugs. “I think we passed weird a pretty long time ago.” He smiles gently. “It’s gonna be fine, Pete.”

“I know,” Peter sighs. “I know, I just, I don’t know if they’re gonna be okay with y’know…. _everything_.” He shrugs. “They did tell me they thought it would be okay for me to stay over every other week though. If that’s alright with you, still.”

“It’s always going to be your home, Peter.”

A throat clears behind them, and they turn quickly, both raising their arms up as if they are expecting an attack. Instead, it is only Richard, standing on the second to last step of the stairs, his hand on the railing. He smiles softly. 

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” He says. He steps onto the landing, walking over to them slowly. He extends his arm. “Mr. Stark. Welcome to our home.”

Peter’s eyes are wide, his heart is racing.

Tony takes Richard’s hand, a smile gracing his features. Peter can see the moment it happens---the moment his father becomes Tony Stark, Iron Man, owner of Stark Industries. It was a cloak he threw on against the world and it was very few people that got to see the man behind it.

“Please. Call me Tony.” He returns the handshake, and they hold it for just a bit longer than what should be normal. Peter swallows hard. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Parker.”

“Richard, please. Tony.”

They break apart and stare at each other in silence, Peter between them.

“Dinner’s ready!” Mary’s voice breaks the awkwardness.

“Let’s get in the kitchen,” Richard says, motioning behind him. “What I have to say, I want to make sure everyone hears it.”

Peter looks back at Tony, pleading, but Tony just shrugs. Richard deserves their time, at the very least, and he will take what he has for him.

Within reason of course.

Peter takes a seat at the end of the table and motions for Tony to take the one on his left. Unsurprising, Richard and Mary sit at the head on each side. Pepper sits across from Tony, May next to her as well.

The tension in the room is palpable. Mary smiles, walking over with a pot roast on a platter, placing it in the middle of the table. She clasps her hands. “Does anyone want anything other than water? Tea? Wine?”

“I’ll take some wine.” Tony pipes up. Peter rolls his eyes and Pepper smiles at her husband, trying to calm him down. Tony makes a kind of shrugging motion, grabbing the cloth napkin laid out in front of it and smoothing it over his lap.

Once everyone settles, Richard clears his throat. “I want to get this out of the way so we can enjoy the meal Mary has been working hard all day on.” He smiles tightly. “These past few weeks have been incredibly difficult for our family. I hope you can appreciate how insane all of this seems, especially since everything was...normal, before it.”

“Please excuse me if we’re being rude,” Mary adds. Richard sort of huffs off to the side, as if he’s not sorry for it at all. “This is all just...really bizarre. We never…” She slides a look over to her husband with a pause. “In all the scenarios that I think we imagined you and Peter knowing each other, this was never one that crossed our minds.”

“I’m not sure a gigantic, genocidal purple extraterrestrial is something anyone can really prepare for.” Tony remarks with a tight smile. “I appreciate you agreeing to speak with me. For inviting me to your home.”

Richard nods. “Of course. It took a few days, and some talking between my wife and I but it is fairly obvious you are now going to be involved in his life. To the extent, we can discuss further at another time.”   
  
Tony looks down at his lap, swallowing hard. Peter opens his mouth to say something, to object, but Mary cuts him off.

“Let your father finish, Peter.”

Peter closes his mouth and scowls. Tony shoots him a pointed look, and Peter slumps in his chair, letting his head drop.

“The last few weeks with Peter away has allowed Mary and I to discuss a lot of things. And one thing is clear most of all, though it will take more time for us to get used to this.” Richard steeples his hands in front of him, looking first at Mary, then directly at Tony. HIs expression is pained but not angry. “Whatever you did, whatever really happened---because I’m sure there’s much more to it than what the news has reported---the one thing I know for sure is that Mary and I wouldn’t even have this life without you. We would have never had the opportunity to see Peter grow up. If the accounts are correct, of other people in Peter’s position…” Richard looks down at his plate with a pause. “Peter wouldn’t be in either place. So first and foremost, we are grateful to you. For taking care of him before. And for taking care of him now.”

Tony’s mouth opens in surprise. He catches Pepper’s eye and sees her looking at him with a very i-told-you-so expression on her face. 

“We are fine with Peter splitting time with you, as he told you in the living room. I think we’ll need to figure out a regular schedule, but honestly, you’re closer to his school than we are, so there is no real reason to object. We want to make sure you understand, Tony, that you are welcome here at any time. As far as we’re concerned, you’re an extended part of this family now.”

“I…” Tony breathes, frozen in place. Whatever he thought was going to be said, that surely wasn’t it. He stares at Richard, then down at Mary, who smiles back at him. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Tony Stark speechless.” May teases.

Tony rolls his eyes. “I just expected...I just thought I’d have to make more of an argument.” 

“As far as we’re concerned, you’re an equal partner in this,” Mary says with a nod. “May, we would also like you to stay as involved as you’d like. This isn’t easy for us, but I imagine it’s not easy for any of you either.”

“We can discuss further later, of course. I want us to eat before everything gets cold. I just wanted to make sure you understood this is not going to be contentious. Are we in agreement, Tony?”

“100%.” He nods with a smile, then claps his hands together. “Let’s eat!”

Peter keeps sneaking glances at everyone around the table as the food is served. Richard looks stiff, with forced smiles and nods and small talk with May, who is sitting on his right. Tony just looks relieved; he’s making jokes here and there and keeps looking over at Peter, letting his gaze rest on him for a little longer than just a glance, and he looks so glad about how this has gone.

Peter’s glad too. He knows it’s going to be difficult, that this is only the beginning of that. Pepper is watching his dad carefully. She’s always known how to read Tony better than anyone, and Peter knows what it looks like when she’s making sure he’s not going to do something he’ll regret. 

His mom just looks kind of tired, but when she catches his eye, she smiles reassuringly and he relaxes back in his chair, accepting the bowl of potatoes passed his way.

Everything is going to be fine.

They make small talk as they eat. Tony makes some allusions to things that happened in their original timeline and Peter finds himself at the mercy of all three of his parents teasing, which he supposes is better than them fighting.

It’s short-lived. As they finish eating, Tony thanks them for the meal and for the hospitality, and Peter’s senses begin to tingle. He begins to pick at the seam of his jeans. 

“....I can’t go into the details about what happened,” Tony is saying. “I just can’t. But, I am incredibly grateful that you and Mary are willing to work with me on this.” He looks over at Peter. “He means so much to me.”

“It’s why it was important for us to have you over.” Richard says with a nod.“It’s still going to take me some time to adjust,” He warns. “But it’s where I want to be. I know it’s how it needs to be. As long as that’s everything…”

Tony’s eyes are still on Peter; he watches as Peter’s head drops, as he twitches nervously and Tony just knows now is the time. He sighs; it’ll have to be his burden to bear then.

He turns back to Mary and Richard, who’s expressions have fallen in the silence. Tony takes a deep breath. 

“Well,” He begins slowly. “There is one more, little thing.”

 

* * *

 

The Spiderman thing goes over less well. There’s some yelling. There are some strong words, May even jumps into Peter and Tony’s defense. Tony, frustrating as he knows it will be to Peter, stays silent. 

“You can’t go...swinging around in a leotard, putting your life in danger because you want to play superhero!” Richard snaps, his grip on the table so tight, his knuckles are turning white. Peter is scowling at him from a seat over, Tony on the opposite side.

“I’ve _been_ doing it for 2 years now, and I’ve been fine. I’m not playing anything, I’ve helped people. You’ve seen the news!”

“Fine? Really?” Richard’s gaze lands on Tony. “Tell me, Tony, how did his avenging turn out in your other timeline?”

“ _Richard._ " Mary rebukes sharply from her seat the other end of the table.

Tony looks like he’d rather be back in space.

“I think we all just need to calm down…” Pepper attempts smoothly but Richard is heated and angry and he snaps his head towards her.

“I don’t know that you have really any say in this, Mrs. Stark.”

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Peter jumps in, scowling. “She’s only trying to help.”

“Peter.” Tony finally speaks, a soft warning and Peter turns to him. 

“No. He can’t talk to her like that. And he can’t just do this, it isn’t _fair_ \---”

“And **what** did I say about life not being fair?”

The entire room falls dead silent like the air has been sucked out of the room. Peter doesn’t seem to notice as he crosses his arms.

“Fine.” He huffs, slumping down in his chair petulantly. Tony scowls at him with the disapproval only a parent can master.

Richard and Mary though---they’re just...staring, at Tony. Their faces are drained, and they look like they’re in shock and Pepper thinks, _**oh no,** it just became real_.

Richard deflates like a balloon. “No,” He sighs. “No, Peter...Peter’s right.” He rubs at his face and slumps back in his chair, mimicking Peter’s posture. “Goddamn, this really is a situation isn’t it?”

He shakes his head, moving to stand.

“Richard---” Mary begins, the tears beginning to gather again. He holds his hand up. 

“No, Mary, please. This is on me this time.” He turns to Pepper, an apologetic look on his face. “Mrs. Stark, please, I meant no disrespect. Please accept my apology.” He shifts to the other side of the table, looking at Tony and Peter. “I meant what I said earlier. I still mean it. But...I hope you’ll still allow me some time to get used to all of…” He waves his hand. Tony nods.

“Of course.” He replies softly. “I’ll keep him grounded until we figure everything out.” He pauses. “The suit, I mean. I defer the confinement to you two.” He pauses again. “Not that I---”

“I think they get it, honey.” Pepper cuts in. Tony shoots her look, one she recognizes as him barely keeping it together.

“It was a pleasure having you and Mrs. Stark here, Tony, but I think I'm gonna head up for the night if that’s alright.”

“Of course.”

Richard makes the effort to come over and shake his hand, wants to make sure Tony know he really _meant_ what he said earlier, just that his heart is taking a little bit longer to catch up to his head. He rests his hand on Peter’s shoulder but doesn’t look at any of them, before waving his hand and heading up the stairs. 

Silence falls in the room. Mary is softly crying, May is watching Peter, and Pepper is staring at Tony, trying to make sure he’s doing alright. Tony stares at his hands and sighs deeply.

“Well. I think that went as well as we could have expected.” He looks up, a tight smile on his face. “Let’s help you clean this up so we can get out of your hair.”

 

* * *

 

“That could have gone better.”

They're walking down the front walk of the house, the lights illuminating their path on either side of the pavement. Pepper’s already at the car, and Mary is in the doorway, watching them say goodbye. Tony raises a brow, hands stuffed into his pants.

“Could've gone a lot worse too, kiddo,” Tony answers, stopping halfway to the road. “Just be thankful they're being so open to the whole thing. They could have told you we couldn't hang out at all.”

“I wouldn't have listened to them.” 

Tony gave him a warning glance. “Peter.” 

“Da- _ad_.”

Tony clamps his mouth shut, huffing loudly. He looks out towards the road for a silent moment before he turns his attention back to his son, eyes sad.

“I’m just glad you didn’t forget me,” Tony smirks at him in the same he always does when he’s overcompensating for nerves, and again, for the second time in as many weeks, Peter doesn’t think before he opens his mouth, he just does.

“You’re pretty unforgettable,” Peter says with a smile. “In like, a million lifetimes. I don’t think I could ever forget you.”

The look falls from Tony’s face. He’s staring at Peter, silent, not sure how to respond so Peter makes a decision. He knows his mom is waiting for him at the door, that she can hear, but...screw it.

“I’m still really glad you’re my dad.”

Tony makes some kind of strangling noise and crosses the few steps between them, pulling him in for a hug. “Kid. You’re just…” Peter can feel him shaking his head, then press a kiss to his hair. “I am too.” He pulls back, clearing his throat. “You’re still grounded until they give the okay. I am, however, willing to advocate once they’re open to it.” He steps back, smoothing the lapels of his jacket. “You gonna be okay?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think we just have to get used to the way it’ll be now.” He shuffles, sticking his hands in his back pockets. “Do you think they’ll come around?”

“Yeah,” Tony puts his arm around his shoulder, walking with him towards his car. “Your dad just sounded a little shell-shocked is all. Just...behave. Don’t bother them about it. And if any broadcasts come on about how Queens is missing their guardian guy, just make sure they're playing when one of them are in the room.” He winks at him, then points a finger at him. “Not my idea.”

Peter grins as Tony reaches for the door. “You’re a terrible role model.”

“And you are one cantankerous kid.”

Peter’s grin softens, a tight feeling settling in his chest. “Yeah, but you still love me.”

Tony grins back at him, his eyes kinda shiny. “Never, ever stopped.” He grabs him in a quick hug, one more time, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Keep your nose clean. I’ll see you next week. Your room will be ready by then. Give me a call, if you need me. Understand?”

“Yeah, dad, I do. Drive home safe.”    
  
“Happy’s on it.” Tony chimes back. He smiles, repeating himself. “Love you, kiddo. Sleep well. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Love you too!” Peter yells back quickly, and he wonders if Tony is as reluctant as he is to see the door close. The car moves back down the drive with a flash of the lights, and Peter waits until they’re gone to walk back towards the house.

His mom is waiting for him. She looks sad, in the way that someone does when they know that you’re hurting and they’d do anything to make it stop. She pulls him close for a hug, and when he follows it into the foyer of the home, she cups his face.

“You’ve had a long day. Are you going to be okay?”

He nods soundlessly. She pulls him in for a hug, and he rests his head on her shoulder with a deep sigh. 

“It’s all gonna be alright.” She says softly, smoothing his hair. Peter pulls away from her and a soft smile finds it’s a way onto his face.

He thinks back a few weeks, to a drug-fueled haze. The night he hurt his wrist had come back to him all fuzzy, but the one thing he’d remembered pretty clearly was that Tony was there, at the side of his bed, holding his hand, a kiss to his temple. 

_ You’re gonna be alright. _

His smile widens at the memory. “I know it will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This legit started off as a rambly one-shot, that turned into one more chapter into another and now I even have a sequel I want to post. I hope everyone liked it! Thank you everyone who read and kudo'd and commented, it means a lot. :)

**Author's Note:**

> the next chapter to this is written. it will not, as some higher being as my witness, be longer than 3 chapters (i may try and keep it just two but the second one is already 4k words so idk). and there is a potential sequel planned, depending on if people actually like it.


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